Log in

User Name

Password

Remember Me?

Lost Password Recovery Form

If you have forgotten your username or password, you can request to have your username emailed to you and to reset your password. When you fill in your registered email address, you will be sent instructions on how to reset your password.

Lyrics that tell stories

I've always been interested in songs that tell complete stories or provide really strong vuisual images. I thought it would be fun (and inspirational) to have a thread where we share lines and lyrics from songs that would make a great movie or novel...lyrics that seem to capture an entire story in just a few lines.

So here's a starter:

That pure American brother, dull-eyed and empty-faced
Races Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight
He rides `er low on the hip, on the side he's got Bound For Glory in red, white and blue flash paint
He leans on the hood telling racing stories, the kids call him Jimmy The Saint
Well the blaze and noise boy, he's gunnin' that bitch loaded to blastin' point
He rides head first into a hurricane and disappears into a point

My favorite song for story telling is
Everything Went Numb by Streetlight Manifesto

The only song I've heard that's flat out about robbing a bank which I found interesting
not really a full movie worth of imagery but at least a bank robbing scene lol.

and the story goes like this: everything went numb for the money and the guns
and everytime he'd think it out: "there's nothing to worry about
get in the van, don't deviate from the plan
if everything goes smooth then you'll walk away a rich man"
so it begins, everybody walks in
could this be the way or the day that the underdog wins?
i think not, so i bet on the feds because the black hat men never win in the end

ski mask (check)
sawed off (check)
guilty conscience, fear of death (check check check)
everything went numb when he stumbled upon what he thought
was going to be another means to the end
silence
sirens
it all went down like his nightmare the night before
i don't want to hear
i don't want to be near
i do what i got to do just to keep my nose clean

Operator, number, please:
It's been so many years
Will she remember my old voice
While I fight the tears?
Hello, hello there, is this Martha?
This is old Tom Frost,
And I am calling long distance,
Don't worry 'bout the cost.
'Cause it's been forty years or more,
Now Martha please recall,
Meet me out for coffee,
Where we'll talk about it all.

And those were the days of roses,
Poetry and prose and Martha
All I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows,
We'd packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.

And I feel so much older now,
And you're much older too,
How's your husband?
And how's the kids?
You know that I got married too?
Lucky that you found someone
To make you feel secure,
'Cause we were all so young and foolish,
Now we are mature.

And those were the days of roses,
Poetry and prose and Martha
All I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows,
We'd packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.

And I was always so impulsive,
I guess that I still am,
And all that really mattered then
Was that I was a man.
I guess that our being together
Was never meant to be.
And Martha, Martha,
I love you can't you see?

And those were the days of roses,
Poetry and prose and Martha
All I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows,
We'd packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.

And I remember quiet evenings
Trembling close to you.

And some of you may find this disquieting (because frankly it is) but it's hard to beat the lyrical virtuosity of Scott Walker. He works on these lyrics for years and years and in the chanson tradition all of the music is entirely composed to fit the lyrics, not the other way around.

Birds
Birds
This is not a cornhusk doll
Dipped in blood in the moonlight
Like what happen in America
This is us
Our eyesides snagged
Dipped in mob in the daylight
Like what happen in America
The breasts are still heavy
The legs long and straight
The upper lip remains short
The teeth are too small
The eyeside is green
The hair long and black
Still coming through
Still coming through
She knows this room
She can navigate it in the dark
She entered the Palazzo at night by a side door
To ascend to a lift in the upper floor
She lies on the bed
Looking up not yet seeing
The signs of the zodiac painted in gold
On the blue vaulted ceiling
His enormous eyes as he arrives
Coming nearer in the surrounding darkness
His strange beliefs about the moon
Its influence upon men of affairs
The danger of its cold light on your face
While you were sleeping
She'll eclipse it with her head
Stroke him while he sleeps
Until he has nothing to do among men of affairs
Sometime before dawn
Her bare feet cross the floor
She gazes from the window
At the fountain in the courtyard
Sometimes I feel like a swallow
A swallow which by some mistake
Has gotten into an attic
And knocks its head against the walls in terror
This is not a rabbit skinned
With a body of silver
Like what happen in America
The breasts are still heavy
The legs long and straight
The upper lip remains short
The teeth are too small
The eyeside is green
The hair long and black
Still coming through
Still coming through
The mood soon changed
In the clear morning air
A man came up towards the body
And poked it with a stick
It rocked swiftly
And twisted around at the end of the rope
Finer than a hair from every side
Finer than a hair
Birds
Birds
This is just a cornhusk doll
Dipped in blood in the moonlight
This is just a cornhusk doll
This morning in my room
A little swallow was trapped
It flew around desperately
Until it fell exhausted on my bed
I picked it up
So as not to frighten it
I opened the window
Then I opened my hand

And here's an old one from Scott, based off of Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal.

Anybody seen a knight pass this way
I saw him playing chess with Death yesterday
His crusade was a search for God and they say
It's been a along way to carry on

Anybody hear of plague in this town
The town I've left behind was burned to the ground
A young girl on a stake her face framed in flames cried
I'm not a witch God knows my name

The knight he watched with fear
He needed to know
He ran where he might feel God's breath
And in the misty church
He knelt to confess
The face within the booth was Mr. Death

My life's a vain pursuit of meaningless smiles
Why can't God touch me with a sign
Perhaps there's no one there answered the booth
And Death hid within his cloak and smiled

This morning I played chess with Death said the knight
We played that he might grant me time
My bishop and my knight will shatter his flanks
And still I might feel God's heart in mine

And through confession's grille Death's laughter was heard
The knight cried No you've cheated me!
But still I'll find a way
We'll meet once again and once again
Continue to play

They met within the woods the knight his squire and friends
And Death said now the game shall end
The final move was made
The knight hung his head
And said you've won I've nothing left to play

The minstrel filled with visions sang to his love
To look against the stormy sky
The knight his squire and friends
Their hands held as one
Solemnly danced toward the dawn

His hourglass in his hand his scythe by his side
The master Death he leads them on
The rain will wash away the tears from their faces
And as the thunder cracked they were gone

The Following User Says Thank You to Raoul Duke For This Useful Post:

Memory comes when memory's old
I am never the first to know
Following the stream up North
Where do people like us float

There is room in my lap
For bruises, asses, handclaps
I will never disappear
Forever, I'll be here

Whispering
Morning, keep the streets empty for me

I'm laying down eating snow
My fur is hot, my tongue is cold
On a bed of spider web
I think of how to change myself

A lot of hope in a one man tent
There's no room for innocence
Take me home before the storm
Velvet mites will keep us warm

Whispering
Morning, keep the streets empty for me

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls
We were hungry before we were born

It's about a deer.

Obvious

A great warrior laments about how even with all his conquests, he still hasn't found peace in life. In order to "cross the river" he must forgo the use of all the things that won him earthly battles.

"Astronomy offers an aesthetic indulgence not duplicated in any other field. This is not an academic or hypothetical attraction and should require no apologies, for the beauty to be found in the skies has been universally appreciated for unrecorded centuries."

Barenaked Ladies- Bank Job
...I was the driver; you ran the show
You had the last word, the go or no go
I knew every laneway in Ontario
But it's not what you're sure of, it's what you don't know
It should have been filled with the usual ones
Throwing their cash into mutual funds
We all had our ski masks and sawed-off shotguns
But how do you plan for a bank full of nuns?

Well, I guess we panicked - we all have taboos
And they were like zebras; they had us confused
We should be in condos with oceanfront views
Instead we're most-wanted on the six o'clock news...

In the streets of New York
Dope fiends are leaning for morphine
The TV screen followed the homicide scenes
You live here, you're taking a chance
So look and I take one glance, there's a man inside an ambulance
Crowds are getting louder, I wonder how the
People want to go fight for the white powder
People hanging in spots
They waited until the blocks got hot
And got raided by the cops
I'll explain the man sleeping in the rain
His whole life remains inside a bottle of Night Train
Another man got his clothes in a sack
Cause he spent every dime of his rent playing blackjack
And there's the poor little sister
She has a little baby daughter
Named Sonya and Sonya has pneumonia
So why's her mother in a club unzipped though?
Yo that's her job, Sonya's mommy is a bar stripper
Drug dealers drive around looking hard
Knowing they're sending their brothers and sisters to the graveyard
Everyday is a main event, some old lady limps
The pushers and pimps eat shrimps
It gets tiring, the sight of a gun firing
They must desire for the sound of a siren
A bag lady dies in an alleyway
She's seen the last of her days inside the subways
More and more down the slope, the kid couldn't cope
So he stole somebody's dope and a gold rope
Now my son's on the run, he's a wanted one
Had fun then was done by a shotgun
Upstairs I cover my ears and tears
The man downstairs must have drank too many beers
Cause every day of his life he beats his wife
Till one night she decides to pull a butcher knife
Blind man plays the sax
A tune called “The Arms on My Moms Show Railroad Tracks”
Many lives are cut short
That's when you're living
In the streets of New York

Baby needs new shoes
But his papa uses all the money for booze
A young girl is undressed in the back seat of a Caddy
Calling some man Daddy
Three men slain inside an apartment
All you could see was the sparks when it darkened
Daylight broke, cops roll on the scene
The drug war, daily routine
Gambling spots, just a poor man's jackpot
You winning a lot, you get shot
The drug dealing fanatics
But you don't want no static
Cause they got crack addicts with automatics
Shoot-outs for a desire for territory
A kid got caught in the crossfire
A tired mother can't take no more
She grab the bottle full of sleeping pills and took about 24
Human beings are laying on the pavement
Cause they're a part of a mental enslavement
The cop snipers, little babies in dirty diapers
This type of life is making you hyper
People scouting a torched-out building
And got killed when the cold air filled in
Is hell really suggested?
No more persons arrested, a child molested
A little kid says, "Yo
I got a color TV, CD player and car stereo
And all I want is a castle
I also got a .38, don't give me no hassle"
One kid heads straight for the top
And gets stopped and popped by a crooked cop
Look behind you when you walk
That's how it is in the streets of New York

"Everything must serve the idea. The means used to convey the idea should be the simplest and clear. Just what is required. No extra images. To me this is a universal principle of art. Saying as much as possible with a minimum of means."

I always thought Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner would make a good CA Character of the Week challenge.

Warren Zevon, "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner"

Roland was a warrior from the Land of the Midnight Sun
With a Thompson gun for hire, fighting to be done
The deal was made in Denmark on a dark and stormy day
So he set out for Biafra to join the bloody fray

Through sixty-six and seven they fought the Congo war
With their fingers on their triggers, knee-deep in gore
For days and nights they battled the Bantu to their knees
They killed to earn their living and to help out the Congolese

Roland the Thompson gunner...

His comrades fought beside him - Van Owen and the rest
But of all the Thompson gunners, Roland was the best
So the CIA decided they wanted Roland dead
That son-of-a-bitch Van Owen blew off Roland's head

Roland the headless Thompson gunner
(Time, time, time for another peaceful war)
Norway's bravest son
(But time stands still for Roland 'til he evens up the score)
They can still see his headless body stalking through the night
In the muzzle flash of Roland's Thompson gun

Roland searched the continent for the man who'd done him in
He found him in Mombassa in a barroom drinking gin
Roland aimed his Thompson gun - he didn't say a word
But he blew Van Owen's body from there to Johannesburg

Roland the headless Thompson gunner...

The eternal Thompson gunner
still wandering through the night
Now it's ten years later but he still keeps up the fight
In Ireland, in Lebanon, in Palestine and Berkeley
Patty Hearst heard the burst of Roland's Thompson gun and bought it

Here's Warren doing the song on Letterman in 2003. It was his last performance.

Someone who was very influenced by Scott Walker; Tons of David Bowie albums/songs, especially from Space Oddity, The man who sold the world (probably my favourite album to imagine to. The whole concept that someone had the power to actually sell the world to someone, an alien race or something, and it had already been done but no one knew about it and it was done by a small insignificant looking man absolutely blew my 8 year old mind to pieces), Aladdin Zane, Ziggy Stardust, Hunky Dory Diamond Dogs ( about a post apocalyptic Manhattan ravages with gangs) etc. Too many individual songs to name here, but when I was a kid my dad would put earphones on me and Id listen and movies would play in my minds eye. They are almost like post apocalyptic Philip K Dick novels. I saddens me that some kids grow up without amazing things like that in their lives. Also, back then, you had NOTHING but the album art and the lyrics, all the imagining was done by your brain, nothing was pre-fed or pre-imagined for you.

The Supermen (inspired by Lovecraft, something I didn't know about at the time)

When all the world was very young
And mountain magic heavy hung
The supermen would walk in file
Guardians of a loveless isle
And gloomy browed with superfear their tragic endless
lives
Could heave nor sigh
In solemn, perverse serenity, wondrous beings chained to life

Strange games they would play then
No death for the perfect men
Life rolls into one for them
So softly a superGod cries

Where all were minds in uni-thought
Powers weird by mystics taught
No pain, no joy, no power too great
Colossal strength to grasp a fate
Where sad-eyed merment tossed in slumbers
Nightmare dreams no mortal mind could hold
A man would tear his brother's flesh, a chance to die
To turn to mold.

Far out in the red-sky
Far out from the sad eyes
Strange, mad celebration
So softly a supergod cries

Far out in the red-sky
Far out from the sad eyes
Strange, mad celebration
So softly a supergod dies

All The Mad men

Day after day
They send my friends away
To mansions cold and grey
To the far side of town
Where the thin men stalk the streets
While the sane stay underground

Day after day
They tell me I can go
They tell me I can blow
To the far side of town
Where it's pointless to be high
'Cause it's such a long way down

So I tell them that
I can fly, I will scream, I will break my arm
I will do me harm
Here I stand, foot in hand, talking to my wall
I'm not quite right at all...am I?

Don't set me free, I'm as heavy as can be
Just my librium and me
And my E.S.T. makes three

'Cause I'd rather stay here
With all the madmen
Than perish with the sadmen roaming free
And I'd rather play here
With all the madmen
For I'm quite content they're all as sane
As me

(Where can the horizon lie
When a nation hides
Its organic minds
In a cellar...dark and grim
They must be very dim)

Day after day
They take some brain away
Then turn my face around
To the far side of town
And tell me that it's real
Then ask me how I feel

Here I stand, foot in hand, talking to my wall
I'm not quite right at all

Don't set me free, I'm as helpless as can be
My libido's split on me
Gimme some good 'ole lobotomy

'Cause I'd rather stay here
With all the madmen
Than perish with the sadmen
Roaming free
And I'd rather play here
With all the madmen
For I'm quite content
They're all as sane as me

The Wild eyed boy from Freecloud (This and a few tracks from Ziggy Stardust like Soul Love, 5 years, Letters to Hermione) would always have me in tears by the end. Would make a good animated movie. There is an animated tribute to the song on YouTube, but I wont link that, let your brain do the magic!

Solemn faced
The village settles down
Undetected by the stars
And the hangman plays the mandolin before he goes to sleep
And the last thing on his mind
Is the Wild Eyed Boy imprisoned
Neath the covered wooden shaft
Folds the rope
Into its bag
Blows his pipe of smolders
Blankets smoke into the room
And the day will end for some
As the night begins for one

Staring through the message in his eyes
Lies a solitary son
From the mountain called Freecloud
Where the eagle dare not fly
And the patience in his sigh
Gives no indication
For the townsmen to decide
So the village Dreadful yawns
Pronouncing gross diversion
As the label for the dog
Oh It's the madness in his eyes
As he breaks the night to cry

It's really Me
Really You
And really Me
It's so hard for us to really be
Really You
And really Me
You'll lose me though I'm always really free

And the mountain moved its eyes
To the world of realize
Where the snow had saved a place
For the Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud

And the village dreadful cried
As the rope began to rise
For the smile stayed on the face
Of the wild eyed boy from freecloud

And the women once proud
Clutched the heart of the crowd
As the boulders smashed down from the mountain's hand
And the Magic in the stare
Of the Wild Eyed Boy, said
Stop, Freecloud
They won't think to cut me down"
But the cottages fell
Like a playing card hell
And the tears on the face
Of the Wise Boy
Came trembling down
To the rumbling ground
And the missionary mystic of peace/love
Stumbled to cry among the clouds
Kicking back the pebbles
From the Freecloud mountain track

Last edited by timpaatkins; May 26th, 2012 at 09:53 AM.

[url=http://galleryonefone.blogspot.com[/url] This would be my gallery in Sweden

It starts in a city under the rule of an evil scientist, Doctor Wily. A good scientist named Doctor Light creates Proto man to combat oppression and regain freedom for mankind. However, Proto man is soon defeated and hope is lost...for now. It's what I imagine if someone took a Christopher Nolan-level of seriousness with Megaman.

"Astronomy offers an aesthetic indulgence not duplicated in any other field. This is not an academic or hypothetical attraction and should require no apologies, for the beauty to be found in the skies has been universally appreciated for unrecorded centuries."

The Following 3 Users Say Thank You to s.ketch For This Useful Post:

Power Metal songs always have full on stories in their lyrics..... .... almost always dealing with dragons......

Hell usually their entire albums are one big story.
One from Dragonland.

As the hordes of the night finally were defeated, nature was
beginning on it's task to restore Dragonland to it's former
grandeur and beauty. The sun reached the surface for the first
time in a hundred years, revealing the scars the evil reign
had bestowed upon the earth. But alas, we could yet again live
as the free people we once were. Thus, fulfilling all of the
lost saviour prophecies on but one aspect, I knew my quest
was far from finished. As I kneeled in the bloodslaked soil of
the battlefield, the sky itself seemed to open up an reach for
me, call for me. After a moment of hesitance all was clear..."

As this eternal struggle has come to end
The light of life now shines upon us once again
But can we truly be free of tyranny and grief?
I see a thousand points of light reaching for me

Now nature grows and blooms
and people live again
Yet this is not the end I feel it

This power given to me is more than I can bear
Unbidden flowing through my mind
Divine it is but it could ruin this world
I see a thousand points of light reaching for me

Now nature grows and blooms
and people live again
Yet this is not the end I fear it

I am the one to end this game
This world will never be the same
I have the power in my hands
The Time has come to save all life
I'll do what it takes no more lies
I'll choose the destiny of Dragonland

A thousand points of light
the madness now have to end
I've yet to destroy the ones, the Gods,
responsible for this
A thousand points of light
my final quest is at hand
To let people live their lives in peace
without Gods and without me

With great reluctance I reached into the light
I rise up to the skies enraged and full of might
They stand before me radiating azure-blue
I'll fight them till the end, yes, that's what I must do

And I shall rid this world
of Gods to rule our lives
So now the end is here I know it

With all my force I strike them down
They scream in anguish as they drown
In fire they now turn to sand
They beg for mercy I give none
My live is over my quest done
I've saved all living here in Dragonland

A thousand points of light
the madness now it has end
I've yet to become one with
all one with universe
A thousand points of light
Dragonland is at peace
A thousand points of light
is reaching for me

This jolly song tells a nice story, from a father to his son, about how he met the kids mum, back in the day...
Its off my all-time favourite album. I wonder how many other people heard this as kids in dads car, driving home from somewhere on a warm evening...

Along come a young girl
She's pretty as a prayerbook
Sweet as an apple on Christmas day
I said good gracious can this be my luck
If that's my prayerbook
Lord let us pray

5 years (she left me hangin')
Jail cell (doors a' bangin')
Every night (I dream about her)
I know (can't live without her)
Right now (I gotta see her)
She knows (I really need her)
On the beach (by the water)
That girl (the devils daughter)

The Following User Says Thank You to Angel Intheuk For This Useful Post:

And just to lighten things up a bit, there's always Weird Al and Dr. Demento...

The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota

I put in a Slim Whitman tape, my wife put on a brand new hair net
Kids were in the back seat jumping up and down,
yelling "Are we there yet?"
And all of us were joined together in one common thought
As we rolled down the long and winding interstate in our '53 DeSoto
We're gonna see the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
We're headin' for the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota

Every time I listen to it I want to go for a road trip. Stop at every giant plaster statue and roadside pie stand I find. Buy homemade beef jerky in towns that consist of one gas station and three trailers.
/weeps uncontrollably
It's been a long winter.

Anyway, there's also the Scotsman Song:

About that time two young and lovely girls just happened by
And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt

The entire damn album of the Decemberist's Hazards of Love. The terribly selfish queen of the forest who raises a baby to be fawn by day, man by night, a girl who captures his heart and becomes pregnant, the rake the queen brings to kidnap her away, and the terribly sad but eloquent end of the troubled couple.

The man:"Mother I can hear your foot-fall now
Soft disturbance in the dead-fall how
It proceeds you like a black smoke pall
Still the wanting comes in waves
And you delivered me from danger then
Pulled my cradle from the reedy glen
Swore to save me from the world of men

The girl, Margaret:"Gentle leaves, gentle leaves
Please array a path for me
The woods are blowing thick and fast around

Columbine, Columbine
Please alert this love of mine
Let him know his Margaret comes along

And all this stirring inside my belly
Won't quell my want for love
And I may swoon from all this swelling
But I won't want for love"

The Queen:"How I made you
I wrought you, I pulled you
From war I labored you
From cancer I cradled you
And now

This is how I am repaid
This is how I am repaid

Remember when I found you
The miseries that hounded you
And I gave you motion
Anointed with lotions
And now

This is how I am repaid
This is how I am repaid"

The Rake:"I had entered into a marriage
In the summer of my twenty-first year
And the bells rang for our wedding
Only now do I remember it clear
Alright, alright, alright

No more a rake and no more a bachelor
I was wedded and it whetted my thirst
Until her womb start spilling out babies
Only then did I reckon my curse
Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright"

Tom Waits is 57 varieties of awesome. My comment was directed at what's included in that Time-Life collection. (And to be fair, it's more like 25% guilty pleasure, 25% legitimate pleasure, and 50% OMG KILL IT WITH FIRE!)

A cry for help, a hint of anesthesia,
The sound from broken homes,
We used to always meet here.
As he lays asleep, she takes him in her arms,
Some things I have to do, but I don't mean you harm.

A worried parent's glance, a kiss, a last goodbye,
Hands him the bag she packed, the tears she tries to hide,
A cruel wind that blows down to our lunacy
And leaves him standing cold here in this colony.

I can't see why all these confrontations,
I can't see why all these dislocations,
No family life, this makes me feel uneasy,
Stood alone here in this colony.
In this colony, in this colony, in this colony, in this colony.

Asylums with doors open wide,
Where people had paid to see inside,
For entertainment they watch his body twist
Behind his eyes he says, 'I still exist.'

This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.

In arenas he kills for a prize,
Wins a minute to add to his life.
But the sickness is drowned by cries for more,
Pray to God, make it quick, watch him fall.

This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.

This is the way.
This is the way.
This is the way.
This is the way.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.

You'll see the horrors of a faraway place,
Meet the architects of law face to face.
See mass murder on a scale you've never seen,
And all the ones who try hard to succeed.

This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.

And I picked on the whims of a thousand or more,
Still pursuing the path that's been buried for years,
All the dead wood from jungles and cities on fire,
Can't replace or relate, can't release or repair,
Take my hand and I'll show you what was and will be.

What's he building in there?
What the hell is he building
In there?
He has subscriptions to those
Magazines... He never
Waves when he goes by
He's hiding something from
The rest of us... He's all
To himself... I think I know
Why... He took down the
Tire swing from the Peppertree
He has no children of his
Own you see... He has no dog
And he has no friends and
His lawn is dying... and
What about all those packages
He sends. What's he building in there?
With that hook light
On the stairs. What's he building
In there... I'll tell you one thing
He's not building a playhouse for
The children what's he building
In there?

Now what's that sound from under the door?
He's pounding nails into a
Hardwood floor... and I
Swear to god I heard someone
Moaning low... and I keep
Seeing the blue light of a
T.V. show...
He has a router
And a table saw... and you
Won't believe what Mr. Sticha saw
There's poison underneath the sink
Of course... But there's also
Enough formaldehyde to choke
A horse... What's he building
In there. What the hell is he
Building in there? I heard he
Has an ex-wife in some place
Called Mayors Income, Tennessee
And he used to have a
consulting business in Indonesia...
but what is he building in there?
What the hell is building in there?

He has no friends
But he gets a lot of mail
I'll bet he spent a little
Time in jail...
I heard he was up on the
Roof last night
Signaling with a flashlight
And what's that tune he's
Always whistling...
What's he building in there?
What's he building in there?

We have a right to know...

Classic Genesis with Gabriel at the helm:
Lamb Lies down on Broadway (1974 )
Fly on a windshield

There's something solid forming in the air,
And the wall of death is lowered in Times Square.
No-one seems to care;
They carry on as if nothing was there.

The wind is blowing harder now,
Blowing dust into my eyes.
The dust settles on my skin,
Making a crust I cannot move in
And I'm hovering like a fly, waiting for the windshield on the freeway.

Echoes of The Broadway Everglades
With their mythical Madonna’s still walking in their shades:
Lenny Bruce declares a truce and plays his other hand
Marshall McLuhan, casual viewing', head buried in the sand.
Sirens on the rooftops wailing, but there's no ships sailing.
Groucho, with his movies trailing, stands alone with his punch line failing.

Ku Klux Klan serve hot soul food and the band plays "in The Mood"
The cheerleader waves her cyanide wand,
There's a smell of peach blossom and bitter almond.
Caryl Chessman sniffs the air, and leads the parade
He knows, in a scent, you can bottle what you made!

There's Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes
smiling at the Majorette, smoking Winston cigarettes
And as the song and dance begins, the children play at home
with needles...Needles and pins